Where Petals of Vengeance Bloom novel Chapter 205

Four affluent women, accustomed to a life of luxury and entitlement, now found themselves reduced to trembling lambs awaiting slaughter, their fear washing over them like a relentless tide.

They resembled withered leaves quivering in an autumn breeze, their once-proud heads now bowed low under the weight of sheer terror.

One of the women, her legs shaking uncontrollably, pleaded with a voice tinged with desperation, "Mr. Foster, could you please reconsider the punishment? We truly understand our mistake!"

Her husband, once a commanding presence in the business world, now resembled a groveling pup, eager to appease. "Mr. Foster, please be generous. My wife didn’t mean any harm. We'll do anything you ask, just spare her this time."

The other three women were already reduced to tears, their carefully applied makeup streaking down their faces in a pitiful display of distress. "No, please don't strip us of our dignity like this, Mr. Foster. Have mercy!"

Sean's lips curled into a sly, enigmatic smile. His voice was smooth and resonant, "Are you really willing to do anything?"

A flicker of hope danced in their eyes as he seemed to relent. But in the next moment, his words descended like a hammer blow, "Even bankruptcy? Would you accept that?"

The grand hall seemed to freeze, an invisible spell cast over its occupants. The faint smiles that had begun to form on their lips were instantly erased.

A wife could be replaced, but if the company went bankrupt, years of hard work would dissolve into nothing, and recovering would be near impossible. The men’s eyes swirled with a tumult of greed and hesitation, but the scales of their self-interest ultimately tipped toward their businesses.

They could only watch as Sean signaled his guards to act.

The guards seized the women, dragging them to the side and pinning their arms firmly against a table. "No, let me go!" the women cried and struggled, their voices a cacophony of panic.

Sean, with an air of detached elegance, picked up a fruit knife, its blade gleaming menacingly under the lights, reflecting in his stern visage. He handed the knife to one of the husbands.

The man was pale with fright. "Mr. Foster, what do you mean by this?"